


Right Hook to the Heart

by anarchycox



Series: Witcher Bingo Card Prompts [19]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Beefy Eskel, Fluff, Jaskier POV, Jaskier wants Eskel, M/M, Minor Scent kink, The Author Regrets Nothing, and Jaskier tends to get what he wants, flirtation, mutations made Eskel large and thick, pretend not to have a skill, teaching fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Jaskier wants Eskel to notice him. So he arranges for Eskel to teach him how to fight. It will be the perfect flirtation opportunity, it is a perfect plan. Mostly perfect. Look at least 20% of Jaskier's plans don't end in complete disaster. It is fine.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Bingo Card Prompts [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746034
Comments: 60
Kudos: 408





	Right Hook to the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ana_Kagetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ana_Kagetsu/gifts).



> for scent kink on my bingo card
> 
> a gift for a good friend who had a rough day

Jaskier had been studying his prey for weeks. Geralt had warned him this was a bad idea, but Geralt said that about every idea Jaskier had ever had, and barely half of them were bad ideas. The rest were either disasters or brilliant successes. But memorable. Always memorable.

And the statute of limitations on some of those ideas was definitely almost certainly up. 

Besides this wasn’t a bad idea. It was the best idea. He had been plotting, thought it through backwards and forwards and couldn’t see a single thing that could go wrong with it. Technically he could see about five but he was an optimist. And his gut told him today was the day. His gut had told him to approach Geralt, and to enter that bardic competition, and his gut had been always been correct about when it was time to jump out a window. His gut was saying this was his moment.

Jaskier hopped down off the wall when the three were done with swords, and had moved onto wrestling. “I want to join in. I know how to throw a punch.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt gave him a look. “No, I am telling you no.”

“I can, watch,” Jaskier protested. He very carefully tucked his thumb into his fist and threw his arm in a huge arc. “There, see, that is a hell of a punch isn’t it?” He ignored Lambert’s snicker, and the light thwack that Geralt delivered to the man’s stomach to shut him up. Jaskier let his face fall. “Oh, wasn’t that good? I’ve asked Geralt several times over the years to show me how to fight, but he’s always refused. Guess he figures I am too weak, or something. I just would like to be able to give what for, when people insult witchers. It drives me crazy how you aren’t appreciated. Yes, I insult people in song, but some villages they only understand a black eye. Which is usually mine, because I tend to leap before I look. I’ll leave you to your practice. Foolish of me, but then I often am, just as Geralt says.” 

Jaskier turned, let his shoulders slump a bit as he began to slowly walk back to the keep. 

“Geralt, you should have at least taught him to throw a decent punch, he’ll break his hand like that. He is a musician, he could ruin his whole livelihood defending our reputation,” Eskel chided. 

Jaskier smiled, and made sure just to let out the tiniest sniffle.

“Geralt,” Eskel sounded so disappointed.

“No, you don’t understand,” Geralt tried to protest.

Jaskier could hear Eskel moving over to him. He didn’t need a witcher’s hearing for that. Unless he was on a hunt, Eskel had a heavy step. He had a heavy everything, really. From the first moment he had seen the other wolf he had hungered. Geralt was built well, impressive muscles, but blink and he ran lean. And Lambert was as similar and even slighter than Geralt, built for running, swimming. Eskel though — he was a goddamn mountain. Several inches taller than the other wolves, and wider across. Jaskier wasn’t small but if you stood in the right place, Eskel almost blocked out the sun. Jaskier swore Eskel’s thighs were the same span as his fucking waist. Jaskier wanted to just ride one of those tree trunks. He had seen several doorways at the keep that Eskel had to go through at an angle - straight on and he would have been stuck. 

Jaskier had many many plans for the quiet and sweet witcher. Not that Eskel had noticed the flirting. But he would today. “No, Eskel it is fine. I am sure Geralt didn’t mean to hurt my feelings when he said my brain was too full of sex and nonsense music to even learn how to fight.” 

“You bastard, I will get you for this,” Geralt growled and stood up. He was stalking over and Eskel stepped between them. 

“Geralt, you always were an impatient teacher, how about you and Lambert go hunting while I teach Jaskier just a few basics?” 

Geralt was glowering and Jaskier gave him a cheerful wave and eyebrow wiggle behind Eskel’s back, which only increased Geralt’s glower.

“Oh, I get it. And it is fucking hilarious,” Lambert called over.

Jaskier made sure to gasp in shock. “Me learning is that hilarious to you? I mastered the seven liberal arts, I assure you I am a swift learner.”

“I really want to stay and watch this,” Lambert crowed. “I’m staying.”

“You are leaving,” Eskel replied firmly. “Both of you, and you are going to be much nicer to Jaskier upon his return. None of us know magically how to fight,” Eskel was shaking his head. “Jaskier, do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?”

“Is there a room perhaps we could practice in?” Jaskier looked up at the sky which had just started to let loose soft little flakes. “A bit cold for me.”

“I know the perfect room, in the keep,” Eskel swore. He glared at the other two. “No spying.”

“But it is going to be -” Lambert started to protest.

“Trust me, you don’t want to see what is going to happen,” Geralt swore. “If you break him, you are in so much fucking trouble.”

“I would never,” Eskel replied in complete earnestness.

Jaskier knew that Geralt was talking to him and he just grinned, because he was not making that promise in a million years. Geralt kept giving him a death glare that at this point in their friendship really meant little to Jaskier, and Jaskier let Eskel guide him into the keep. They went through a door, Jaskier hadn’t gone through much and soon they were in a tower that clearly functioned as a bit of a linen closet. There were bedrolls and extra furs just laying about.

“We can spread them out, just in case you fall, wouldn’t want you to bruise.”

“No, if I bruise my knees I like it to be on purpose.”

“Why would you want to bruise your knees on purpose?”

“I like to worship on my knees a lot,” Jaskier replied with a sweet smile.

“I never took you for a religious man,” Eskel sounded surprised.

“You could take me any way you like,” Jaskier was pressing a bit, but this was the first time he had truly had Eskel alone and he wanted to try for the man. He was always so hesitant around Jaskier, shy if such was possible for a witcher. Jaskier wanted to see fire in Eskel’s eyes. For him. He thought he had seen interest a couple of times, but then the man would leave the room. He had to know. “I am so grateful you are willing to teach me.”

“I am happy to help, I would hate to see you hurt in your travels.”

Jaskier melted at how earnest Eskel sounded. “What is the first step?” he asked.

“First is how to make a proper fist,” Eskel said. “Look at my hand.”

Jaskier watched him, and then put his thumb outside but at an absurd angle. Every time Eskel tried to explain Jaskier moved it wrong until Eskel touched his hand, adjusted where his thumb should be. “There,” he explained, “Much better.”

Eskel’s hand dwarfed his easily. All Jaskier could picture was them on his cock. “Much, much better,” Jaskier agreed. He breathed in and froze. It was the closest that Eskel had been to him, and it was the first time he had caught the scent of him. He had always loved the scent of people, in university he adored being surrounded by all the perfumes he fellow classmates wore. The florals, the musks, each entranced him entirely. He was so very easily bewitched.

And then he discovered the world. Perfumes had no match for the natural scents of witchers. They weren’t necessarily pleasant, Geralt’s onion smell was not due to onions but how he smelled when he was angry and Jaskier had yet to figure that one out. But it was compelling. Lambert smelled like the spark of flint to fire, Vesemir smelled like his swords. But Eskel had never come quite close enough. He smelled like how cold air felt. Perhaps because they were still chilled from outside, but he smelled like that perfect breath of winter. Free, dangerous. It made him so hungry. Jaskier leaned in, to breathe it in more.

He almost stumbled forward when Eskel stepped back.

“Now to throw a proper punch, you are aiming through - not at.”

Jaskier was about to say something flirty but that actually confused him. “Wait, why wouldn’t I want to punch at?”

“I promise that I won’t hurt you,” Eskel swore. “May I use you for demonstration purposes?”

“Use me however you want, whenever you want. I don’t mind if you hurt me.” Jaskier tilted his head a bit to smile at Eskel. He wasn’t short by any stretch, but dead on and his gaze barely met Eskel’s chin. He could picture all the heft pressing him down or against any surface and it made him a little lightheaded. The witcher had to be smelling his arousal but he wasn’t reacting. Fuck, Jaskier loved his stoicism, wanted to crack it.

“I could never hurt you,” Eskel promised. “What you have to understand is when you throw a punch it is not so much about the strength as it is the momentum.” Eskel’s arm was moving incredibly slowly the fist aimed at his jaw. The knuckles then rested against his cheek and for a moment Jaskier forgot about the lesson, forgot about seducing Eskel, he just leaned into the press of that skin against his. “If I am just aiming for your jaw, it will hurt, but not as much as it could because I’ve shortened the momentum. Instead I am aiming past, aiming through. More momentum, more power, more hurt.” He moved his hand away and Jaskier’s skin felt so cold. “Now, how about your try against my palms.”

They moved about the room, and Jaskier threw a few punches at Eskel’s hands. 

“Not bad, but you aren’t relying on your arms for your strength, it should ripple from the shoulder down.”

“I don’t understand,” Jaskier pouted a bit. “Show me.” Eskel threw a few swings at the air but Jaskier shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just don’t see a difference. I suppose I am just rubbish.”

“You never could be,” Eskel promised. “Throw the punch.” Jaskier started to and then Eskel’s hands were all over his arm and shoulder, adjusting it. Then Eskel stood behind him, enveloped him, and Jaskier leaned back against him. “Here, like this,” Eskel said and moved their bodies together. Jaskier almost whimpered as the scent of Eskel wrapped around him. They did that for a bit and Jaskier could not cope with being that close to the man he had been wanting for what felt like forever. 

Jaskier stepped away. “I’m a bit warm. Mind if I take my shirt off?” Like he hadn’t seen the wolves regularly train and scrap in the nude. There was a nod and Jaskier took it off. Removing that layer somehow made him feel even smaller next to Eskel. “So those are big punches, what about the short close ones. Jibs?”

“Jabs,” Eskel corrected. They moved around the room and Eskel showed him what to do, and Jaskier was sweating by the end. He swore that he caught a hunger in Eskel’s eyes at some point but then it was always banked and back to that solemn and earnest look. He also didn’t touch Jaskier again. Plus side, Jaskier’s ability to throw a punch did improve. Down side, he wanted Eskel more than ever and was no closer to having the man.

“I think that is enough for today, but we can practice again,” Eskel promised. “This could be our room.” Eskel looked a bit nervous. “If you wanted to have a space with me, for us?”

Jaskier was going to die. How the fuck did the man not smell how much Jaskier wanted him. “That would be good.” He bent down to pick up his shirt. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he knew it was Eskel he did, but still there was just that instinct from years of traveling with Geralt, traveling on his own - someone approached from behind, you might not have time to see if it is in innocence. Jaskier threw his shirt back to blind the person, rolled out of the way, kicked out at the knee as he went. He stood and there was a chair in the corner, he went over and threw it hard, a whiplash of wrist and the coiled strength he had that always surprised people.

Jaskier watched the chair crash into Eskel and the man barely flinched. “Oh come on, how the fuck is that fair?” he shouted.

“Jaskier, that was impressive,” Eskel was looking at him, not with the usual oh fuck another bar fight resignation that Geralt had, but almost awe. “What was that?”

“I…yeah. I should go,” Jaskier darted forward and tried to pull his shirt from Eskel’s hands. But the man wasn’t letting go. “I need that?”

“Do you?” Eskel started moving forward until Jaskier found himself backed against the wall. “I think you were lying to me, Jaskier.”

“Only a little? I did learn a lot today.” The stone wall was rough against his skin, and Eskel was close enough that every breath pulled the man’s scent into his nose. All Jaskier could see was him. Smell was him. Fuck, he was a moment away from begging.

“Does Geralt really refuse to teach you self defense?”

“He does,” Jaskier swiftly swore.

“Why?”

“Because I already start enough fights, and cause enough damage to idiots and property that fully weaponizing me is too likely to start a war.”

“I owe him an apology. Why would you do this?”

“Because you weren’t noticing how much I wanted you.” Jaskier didn’t bother lying. “I was trying to flirt with you.”

“I was ignoring it. Geralt warned us you like to flirt and always just smell aroused. That you were a cat in heat. And cats don’t like us.”

“I like you,” Jaskier replied. He put a hand on Eskel’s chest. “I like you so fucking much.” He braced himself on the wall behind him and brought his legs up kicked them into Eskel’s stomach and pressed hard. Eskel let himself be pushed back, fell down on the furs and bedrolls. Jaskier went over and tried to straddle the man’s hips. Eskel was so huge and thick that it was an uncomfortable strain. “I smell like that because I want you to fuck me.” Jaskier did as he dreamed of and settled himself on one of Eskel’s thighs. “I want you.”

“I…” Eskel looked lost for a moment and Jaskier leaned down and kissed the frown between his eyes. “I’m not Geralt.”

“Thank Melitele for that,” Jaskier smiled and kissed the scars. “Don’t want him. Want you.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Eskel promised.

“You can have me however you want me.” Jaskier kissed his mouth. “Eskel?”

“Yes?”

“No one has ever taught me how to properly be taken by a man,” Jaskier blinked his eyes wide, tried to look as innocent as possible. “Perhaps you could teach me that too?”

He was pushed off and then Eskel was on top of him, pressing him down, and it felt as good as he had dreamed. “Now that big a lie, definitely requires some punishment.”

Jaskier bit his lip and looked up at Eskel. “Yes, please.”

“Let’s see just how much you know, and how much I can teach you.”

“I’ve always been a quick learner,” Jaskier swore. “Bet I teach you a few things too.” He pressed his nose to Eskel’s neck and breathed in. He shuddered a bit, loving the scent, perhaps loving Eskel. Time would tell.

“Bet you do,” Eskel agreed, and they spent the rest of the day learning everything they could.


End file.
